Tuesday, November 26, 2013


you tell me that i should try to keep my

as if i could somehow coerce my consciousness to traverse the boundaries of my me-niverse
and rush, unprotected
into the crazy, overwhelming crush
of unfiltered particles and waves with such a gaze
as i've been training since i was born to avoid
and in so doing formed the very void that has become
my sacred "i"
of the storm

three eyes have i, to be precise
one, looking back in high-definition retro-vision
one, now, with myopia
and my third eye, my ocular oracle with sight beyond sight
the one that sees all
the possible futures and fantasies of both fright and flight
and i've but barely begun to discover which buttons on my remote control
do more than simply
select the source
or show a picture-in-picture view of my soul

how very droll,
all this you think that i should leave behind
somehow unzip my skin and evacuate my mind
to pick some dull, tumbled-out tissue to call
the truth inside
to preside over this lawless suit

that's cute, i'll just junk my judge and jury
and turn to mental masturbation
pretend i'm empty of the fury
that has fueled my consternation
i'll invent an allegory so that
can have the glory from pointing out patterns and counting crooked constellations
convert my me-niverse into a universe of discourse in which
in verse
can dis-cover the correct
of action
after discerning the source of my sad story
and then
to your satisfaction
tell me
which stars
of mine
are mere satellites to be brought down by the might of your psychic intergalactic missiles
while you neglect
to bring your otherworldly arms to bear on the indirect issue of negotiating any potential paradoxes that i might reject
that could shock me so badly
that my clock's hands would spin madly
as i encounter another internal black hole's event horizon that halts


"that's not what i meant",
you say,
and so i put my dictionary away
and focus on being "subjectively objective" and not judgementally corrective
for i see now that you're only trying to assist
and that this clenched fist of sarcasm
is merely my projection to avoid any reflection
on this cavernous cavern overflowing with
so insecure that it demands detours

i guess i could use your help
to stop stumbling
and stubbing toes
and striking shins in the dark
the state of my home is quite humbling
so please
forgive me
for my earlier snark

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